Blood
by Jinny the Kisaragi
Summary: That was all he could see and smell and taste.
1. Blood

**Ah, h'lo! Long time no see, eh? Well I'm finally able to write more frequently, since I finally got my laptop! I'm working tirelessly on part 5 of my Christmas special (let it be known that only Jinny would finish a Christmas special in the summer), but here's a little thing for you while you wait~**

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Blood. That was all he could see and smell and taste. The rain hit his form like bullets and thundered against his head as it swam and made the world spin around him.

Spy lay sprawled on the muddy ground, half submerged in a puddle as the wounds in his body turned the murky water red.

They had left him there. Every one of them. He was pretty sure that Scout and a few others had seen him, too. None of them said a word or done anything to help.

He wondered if they even knew that respawn was turned off after battles.

Spy closed his eyes, feeling his headache grow. The coolness of the puddle helped a bit, but not by much. The gashes all over his body warmed the water quickly and took away any hope of comfortably bleeding out.

Could he really blame his teammates though? He was a backstabber for God's sake! Nobody cared if he was dead or alive, they'd probably be glad that he was out of their hair. Scout had gone so far as to make his dislike for the Frenchman extremely noticeable, calling him a backstabbing frog, a coward, a bastard on a daily basis. He said he wished Spy would die, that he would suffer and be truly alone. Well, Scout, he thought, you got your wish.

Stupid kid. He didn't know what happened. He had no idea. There was a reason Spy did these things. It wasn't like he was born that way. He used to have a family. A tender, loving family. He grew up in a beautiful city where the flowers and sun greeted you happily every morning.

Until the day it was all taken away.

The day he was informed of how sick, twisted, revolting, disgusting, and cruel the world actually was.

There was a reason he trusted no one anymore. A reason he wasn't kind or gentle towards anyone anymore.

By this point, Spy had lost profuse amounts of blood, and the puddle was now more concentrated in the red liquid than it was with water. The Frenchman felt himself slipping away, the sound of the beating rain on his skull now subsiding into a dull thump.

He was ready to drift away from this hell hole.

Before he could pass on, however, steady arms enveloped him, gathering him up tightly before hefting up his limp form. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes, so he had no choice but to left himself be swept away from his oh-so comfortable spot in the mud. The person clutched him tighter, murmuring soft reassurances and soothing words as they carrying him. Spy let the honey-rich voice lull him to sleep, seeing as he didn't have any other choice.

He awoke after what seemed like seconds. Now he was warm, warm and comfortable. The owner of those arms had brought him somewhere inside, though he could still hear the pitter patter of rain against the window and a slight chill was still residing in his body, despite his apparent location in a bed. Spy groaned and shivered, wanting to pull the blankets over his head and go back to sleep.

Suddenly, a gentle, calloused hand rested itself on his forehead, most likely checking his temperature. He didn't bother to open his eyes, he was too tired. The hand left his forehead, and he immediately missed its comfort, but it then took hold of the blanket on him and lifted it up higher on him. Seconds later, what felt like a hot water bottle was inserted under the arch of his back, and the chill dulled substantially. He could almost hear the sweet beckoning of sleep calling him, and he intended to return to it as soon as possible.

The hand returned to his forehead, but this time, it lingered, sliding down to his cheek and cupping his face. The thumb lightly brushed his cheek through his mask.

"Stupid bloody spois…" was the last thing the Frenchman heard before drifting off.


	2. I'm Not the Idiot Here

******Ah, so, I was just going to make this a oneshot, but quite a few people wanted it continued! So, here goes!**

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I appreciate the support :)**

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Spy sat glumly in Sniper's lumpy camper van bed, and he could distinctly feel every wonky spring and imperfection in the mattress (if it could even be called that, it was more like brick with a thin layer of cotton around it). He was still shivering (good Lord, he had probably caught a cold) and the layers of woollen knitted blankets seemed to do him little good at the moment.

"Here you are," Sniper mumbled, coming over with a steaming hot #1 Sniper mug in his hands as he sat down on the bed, "a noice cuppa should warm ya up."

Despite his sour mood, the Frenchman accepted the cup gratefully, holding it a minute to warm his hands before taking a sip and allowing the near-scalding liquid to wash down his throat. Sniper watched him as he drank in silence, and Spy couldn't ignore the bushman's piercing gaze analyzing him.

"Somezhing I can 'elp you with, mon cher?" He muttered, casting him an unimpressed glance before returning his attention to the mug in his hands.

As if shaken out of a stupor, Sniper jumped a little. "Well… yeah, actually." Oh wonderful, Spy thought, he's using the voice for when he's preparing for an argument.

"Why were you out in the bleedin' rain?" He demanded. Something in the Aussie's eyes suggested that he was exasperated beyond belief, but Spy conveniently chose to ignore it. He liked annoying Sniper, always good fun.

"What exactly do you mean by 'why'? I was shot, my team didn't care to rescue me, and I lay bleeding out in a puddle. I 'ardly see why zhere's a need to ask why." The reply was the perfect combination of casual and bitter, something that Spy had perfected over the years, and he took another sip of his tea as he waited for Sniper's response.

"Oh come on, Spook. We both know you've had worse and lived." Sniper spat, his obvious distaste in finding Spy dying in a puddle becoming apparent through his tone. "You had one bullet wound. One."

It was true, Spy noted as shifted a bit and felt his bandaged midsection. He had only been shot once, and it was not big process for Sniper to pull out the bullet with his crochet hook while Spy was unconscious. He stayed silent for a long time, mulling over what he'd felt while he was bleeding out in the rain the previous night.

Sniper's voice broke the silence again. "You stayed out there on purpose, you idiot."

The Frenchman's eyes flicked to Sniper again. "Zhere is definitely an idiot in zhis room, and _I _am not him." He hissed, glaring. "Who was zhe one zhat decided he'd take off without a word for three months? Oh yes, it was _you_." The statement was dripping with venom and accompanied by a pointed look at Sniper. Aussie frowned a bit, dropping his gaze and refusing to make eye contact.

"Look… m'sorry about that," he scratched the back of his neck, his tone quieter and losing its edge, "but do you really think it was great for me to find you lyin' in a heap on the battlefield foive minutes after I got back? What were you thinking'?"

Spy fell silent again, but this time, he didn't stay put. He threw the blankets off to the side and let Sniper's mug fall to the floor, chipping the edge and spilling tea everywhere. Before Sniper could react, he sprung up from the bed and marched out of the camper, ignoring the calls from Sniper as he headed back to his own base. Spy was absolutely fuming, and the only thing that was going to calm him down enough for him to not strangle Sniper was a cigarette.

_Three months, _Spy thought, _he'd been gone for three months and he won't even tell me why._


	3. Fraternizing With the Enemy

A smoke was what Spy needed.

To calm down and think was what Spy needed.

Getting into a heated argument with Soldier in which Medic had to sedate both of them to get them to stop was not what Spy needed.

He awoke in the infirmary, a splitting headache pounding at his head and a purple shiner becoming visible where Soldier had punched him. It felt like a few of his ribs were bruised too, but he was pretty sure that Heavy had pulled the maniac back before he could break anything. Spy had gotten his fair share of hits on Soldier though, and he now remembered why Medic had sedated him as well instead of just Soldier.

Well, he thought, that got a little more out of his control than he would have liked.

He shifted himself to sit up more, and felt a sharp pain dance through his ribs and torso where he had been shot. Spy groaned, knowing that the wound would be agitated from his fight and that the gauze probably needed to be changed.

Though when he threw the covers off himself, he found that the bandages had already been changed to pristine white ones. In a slight panic, he looked up from his chest and found exactly what–or rather, who–he feared would be there.

"Guten Morgen, Herr." Medic called from his desk in the corner of the room, not looking up from his medical text. "I see you got yourself patched up after battle."

Spy swallowed a bit, collecting himself before replying. "Oui, docteur, I did not wish to trouble you with such a petty wound."

The doctor was still not taking his eyes off his book. "You know it vould not have been any trouble. It's my job." His tone was low, nonchalant, but Spy knew that he was putting it on. "So did you get in vhile or after I vas dealing vith everyone else?"

"…pardon?"

"Vell it's just zhat I keep zhe infirmary doors locked vhen I'm not in here, und I specifically recall locking up right after I finished vith everyone else." Only now did Medic look up from his book, and Spy really wished he hadn't. His gaze was piercing, and it was cutting Spy open and looking for an explanation through the guts of his expression–though the Frenchman was pretty sure Medic already had a theory.

"Am I not allowed to keep my own medical supplies?" He replied coolly. "As a Spy, I am always prepared for everything and anything."

Medic gave him one more scrutinizing glare as the silence between them stretched out. "Fraternizing vith she enemy is strictly prohibited. I trust you know zhat."

The side of Spy's lip quirked into a smile as he nodded and hopped off the bed, striding out of the infirmary.

_Stupid stupid stupid, _Spy thought when he was back in his room, making sure the door was securely shut behind him, _We've got to be more careful._


End file.
